Unknown to History: a story of the captivity of Mary of Scotland eBook

“Brother, quotha? Yea, and as good brother
he shall be to thee, and welcome, so long as thou
art Cis Talbot by day—­but no more, child.
Princesses mate not with Yorkshire esquires.
When the Lady Bride takes her place in the halls of
her forefathers, she will be the property of Scotland,
and her hand will be sought by princes. Ah,
lassie! let it not grieve thee. One thing thy
mother can tell thee from her own experience.
There is more bliss in mating with our equals, by
the choice of others, than in following our own wild
will. Thou gazest at me in wonder, but verily
my happy days were with my gentle young king—­and
so will thine be, I pray the saints happier and more
enduring than ever were mine. Nothing has ever
lasted with me but captivity, O libera me.”

And in the murmured repetition the mother fell asleep,
and the daughter, who had slumbered little the night
before, could not but likewise drop into the world
of soothing oblivion, though with a dull feeling of
aching and yearning towards the friendly kindly Humfrey,
yet with a certain exultation in the fate that seemed
to be carrying her on inevitably beyond his reach.

CHAPTER XVI. THE PEAK CAVERN.

It was quite true that at this period Queen Mary had
good hope of liberation in the most satisfactory manner
possible—­short of being hailed as English
Queen. Negotiations were actually on foot with
James VI. and Elizabeth for her release. James
had written to her with his own hand, and she had
for the first time consented to give him the title
of King of Scotland. The project of her reigning
jointly with him had been mooted, and each party was
showing how enormous a condescension it would be in
his or her eyes! Thus there was no great unlikelihood
that there would be a recognition of the Lady Bride,
and that she would take her position as the daughter
of a queen. Therefore, when Mary contrived to
speak to Master Richard Talbot and his wife in private,
she was able to thank them with gracious condescension
for the care they had bestowed in rearing her daughter,
much as if she had voluntarily entrusted the maiden
to them, saying she trusted to be in condition to
reward them.

Mistress Susan’s heart swelled high with pain,
as though she had been thanked for her care of Humfrey
or Diccon, and her husband answered. “We
seek no reward, madam. The damsel herself, while
she was ours, was reward enough.”

“And I must still entreat, that of your goodness
you will let her remain yours for a little longer,”
said Mary, with a touch of imperious grace, “until
this treaty is over, and I am free, it is better that
she continues to pass for your daughter. The
child herself has sworn to me by her great gods,”
said Mary, smiling with complimentary grace, “that
you will preserve her secret—­nay, she becomes
a little fury when I express my fears lest you should
have scruples.”